Vermont 50 was my third goal race of 2013, and the first that I didn't hope to win. In fact, I had very little clue what I was capable of in my first 50-miler since becoming a more committed runner after Finn was born last year. I was pretty sure I'd PR, since my previous best at Vermont (7hr57min) was set in 2007, in my first 50 ever. Could I break 7hrs? Would I blow up and stagger to the finish if I tried? In a way it was nice to be so clueless: I didn't put any pressure on myself, and figured I'd go by feel and see how it turned out.
I did do some research to get an idea of what my splits should look like for a 7hr finish. Even though I'd be going by feel I wanted to be able to monitor my progress, in order to know if I was going out way too fast or just to give me motivation to run hard if it looked like I was on target. I knew Brian Rusiecki would be racing, and with his three wins in the past four years he'd be the obvious favorite. I figured if I kept my pace under control, stayed behind Brian, and ran my own race I stood a good chance of being very happy with my result. When I saw that the weather would be ideal I became even more hopeful, and then my mom surprised me by deciding to come watch and crew for me. The deck was stacked for a perfect day at Vermont, and I went into the race feeling confident and relaxed.
I did do some research to get an idea of what my splits should look like for a 7hr finish. Even though I'd be going by feel I wanted to be able to monitor my progress, in order to know if I was going out way too fast or just to give me motivation to run hard if it looked like I was on target. I knew Brian Rusiecki would be racing, and with his three wins in the past four years he'd be the obvious favorite. I figured if I kept my pace under control, stayed behind Brian, and ran my own race I stood a good chance of being very happy with my result. When I saw that the weather would be ideal I became even more hopeful, and then my mom surprised me by deciding to come watch and crew for me. The deck was stacked for a perfect day at Vermont, and I went into the race feeling confident and relaxed.
With Keith Iskiw at the start This isn't to say that I felt particularly good physically. My legs had been tight throughout the taper, with hamstrings in particular that never seemed to loosen up. I knew that these things often disappear on race morning, and hoped that would be the case in Vermont.
I drove to Ascutney alone on Sunday in order to check in and have some time to get ready and to see all the friends I hoped to connect with before the race. The pre-race time passed quickly as I chatted with friends, managing to see everyone I'd been looking for and to wish them a good race. My mom showed up twenty minutes before the start and I introduced her to Jenn and Heather, who would be crewing for their husbands and would keep my mom company for much of the day.
I started at the front, next to women's favorite Aliza Lapierre and some fast guys I know (Canadians Keith Iskiw and Adam Hill), and settled into a comfortably fast pace as soon as the gun went off. For a moment I was in the lead, but happily let a group of guys pass and open up a gap on me within the first couple of minutes. The lead pack was ten strong and included Brian Rusiecki, the only one I recognized and the one I didn't want to try to keep up with. I followed alone about 100 feet back, with another lone runner a little ways behind me, then Aliza and another woman (probably Amy Rusiecki) following him. We quickly hit a steep climb (new to me, due to a Hurricane Irene reroute) and I walked it, allowing the lead pack to widen the gap a little more as they all ran. I knew some of the leaders would come back to me, and more importantly I didn't want to be caught up in any of the early competition that might prevent me from running my own race.
I drove to Ascutney alone on Sunday in order to check in and have some time to get ready and to see all the friends I hoped to connect with before the race. The pre-race time passed quickly as I chatted with friends, managing to see everyone I'd been looking for and to wish them a good race. My mom showed up twenty minutes before the start and I introduced her to Jenn and Heather, who would be crewing for their husbands and would keep my mom company for much of the day.
I started at the front, next to women's favorite Aliza Lapierre and some fast guys I know (Canadians Keith Iskiw and Adam Hill), and settled into a comfortably fast pace as soon as the gun went off. For a moment I was in the lead, but happily let a group of guys pass and open up a gap on me within the first couple of minutes. The lead pack was ten strong and included Brian Rusiecki, the only one I recognized and the one I didn't want to try to keep up with. I followed alone about 100 feet back, with another lone runner a little ways behind me, then Aliza and another woman (probably Amy Rusiecki) following him. We quickly hit a steep climb (new to me, due to a Hurricane Irene reroute) and I walked it, allowing the lead pack to widen the gap a little more as they all ran. I knew some of the leaders would come back to me, and more importantly I didn't want to be caught up in any of the early competition that might prevent me from running my own race.
As expected the lead group broke up pretty early on, maybe a few miles in, and I passed one or two of them as I cruised at a fast but (I hoped) reasonable pace. I was running with mountain bikers from about mile two as well--some had flatted and some were just having fun riding and not worrying about their pace--so I made sure to run on the side of the roads and listen for them coming up from behind when we were on trails. Mostly I was on autopilot for the early miles, feeling good and knowing I'd be into the first major aid station (12.5mi) ahead of my splits.
Somewhere in this early stage I passed a few more runners and eventually found myself running with Brian Rusiecki and another runner. Whoops! I introduced myself to Brian and commented that I wasn't supposed to be near him, and upon hearing my name his companion turned and introduced himself to me as Kevin Tilton, who I'd never met but knew of due to his mountain running prowess. A couple more runners were also in this new lead pack, including a tall Québécois who I didn't recognize but who looked to be running extremely comfortably. At one point he pulled off into the woods to pee, lost some ground, and then came loping back to the pack as if he was out for an easy jog. I wasn't comfortable in this company, so when a short steep section offered a chance to hike I took it, allowing Brian, Kevin and the fast Canadian to run ahead.
Somewhere in this early stage I passed a few more runners and eventually found myself running with Brian Rusiecki and another runner. Whoops! I introduced myself to Brian and commented that I wasn't supposed to be near him, and upon hearing my name his companion turned and introduced himself to me as Kevin Tilton, who I'd never met but knew of due to his mountain running prowess. A couple more runners were also in this new lead pack, including a tall Québécois who I didn't recognize but who looked to be running extremely comfortably. At one point he pulled off into the woods to pee, lost some ground, and then came loping back to the pack as if he was out for an easy jog. I wasn't comfortable in this company, so when a short steep section offered a chance to hike I took it, allowing Brian, Kevin and the fast Canadian to run ahead.
This was pretty much the last time I'd see other 50 mile runners. Despite the constant company of mountain bikers and, later on, the many 50k runners that I passed it felt like a very a lonely race. For much of the race I was in fourth place, and was very happy there. I blew through the aid stations, drinking a cup of water at each of them except for the two big aid stations where I could meet my mom and grab new gear (waist belt at 12mi, pack at 31mi). Somewhere along the way I passed Kevin, who was clearly not having a great day but was a good sport about it, replying cheerfully when I asked how he was doing. I was concerned for a while in the 20-30 mile range when my hamstrings and hips still felt tight--I hoped it wasn't due to running too fast in the early miles, and I might have dialed the effort back a little bit to compensate, but fortunately by the 31mi aid station my legs had finally loosened up and I was running comfortably, determined to give it my best effort and try to keep moving at a good pace.
The long sections of single track toward the end of the race forced the pace to slow somewhat, giving me a nice chance to rest the legs without feeling like I was losing ground. By now I had moved up in the field to the point where I was running with bikers who seemed to care about their time and racing as best they could, and they passed downhill at a pretty good clip while being less inclined to hit the brakes until a safe place to pass presented itself. Most were still great about communicating and being very safe, but a few were clearly tired and one in particular passed me on multiple downhills without bothering to tell me he was coming or what side he was taking. This led to a couple close calls and not a small amount of stress on my part, and all the time spent running out of the track to make way for mountain bikers must have slowed me, but it was also exciting and probably helped to keep me focused.
The long sections of single track toward the end of the race forced the pace to slow somewhat, giving me a nice chance to rest the legs without feeling like I was losing ground. By now I had moved up in the field to the point where I was running with bikers who seemed to care about their time and racing as best they could, and they passed downhill at a pretty good clip while being less inclined to hit the brakes until a safe place to pass presented itself. Most were still great about communicating and being very safe, but a few were clearly tired and one in particular passed me on multiple downhills without bothering to tell me he was coming or what side he was taking. This led to a couple close calls and not a small amount of stress on my part, and all the time spent running out of the track to make way for mountain bikers must have slowed me, but it was also exciting and probably helped to keep me focused.
The six mile section in between aid stations at mile 41 and mile 47 is mostly downhill and I was running hard and scared, certain that Kevin or someone else would be making a move and determined to hold them off for third place. I pushed the pace and took advantage of the goodwill of lots of mountain bikers, most of whom knew I was running for the podium and yielded to me when the single track was technical enough that my pace was slightly faster than theirs. I relished the roads and the fast running that they allowed--such a difference from prior Vermont 50s when I cursed the unforgiving dirt roads whenever I was forced to run on them.
I love the last 3 miles of the race, which take place on the side of Ascutney ski resort, so I was pumped to hit the final aid station and hand my pack off to my mom so that I could run the final miles unencumbered. I grabbed coke and ginger ale at the aid station to settle my slightly queasy stomach and started to push the pace up the switchbacks of the final climb, knowing that I was almost finished and had plenty of energy to kick it in.
I love the last 3 miles of the race, which take place on the side of Ascutney ski resort, so I was pumped to hit the final aid station and hand my pack off to my mom so that I could run the final miles unencumbered. I grabbed coke and ginger ale at the aid station to settle my slightly queasy stomach and started to push the pace up the switchbacks of the final climb, knowing that I was almost finished and had plenty of energy to kick it in.
With a mile to go I was nearly run over by a mountain biker who didn't communicate, as I moved left off the trail to let him pass on the track (yelling "take right" and pointing the way) only to find he'd committed to the left too. I dodged back right and was scared and pissed for a moment realizing how quickly a crash can happen, but got over it, knowing we were both tired and doing our best to keep it together.
On the final switchbacking descent I looked back uphill to see a shirtless runner moving well, and thinking it was another 50 miler I started sprinting downhill to avoid a race to the finish. After a minute of this I realized I had it in the bag and relaxed, enjoying the feeling of accomplishment that comes with knowing you gave your best effort and ran the "perfect race." I thanked my mom, who was cheering from the hillside near the finish line, and crossed the finish line in 6:40:29, good for third and much faster than I had allowed myself to hope I could run at Vermont.
On the final switchbacking descent I looked back uphill to see a shirtless runner moving well, and thinking it was another 50 miler I started sprinting downhill to avoid a race to the finish. After a minute of this I realized I had it in the bag and relaxed, enjoying the feeling of accomplishment that comes with knowing you gave your best effort and ran the "perfect race." I thanked my mom, who was cheering from the hillside near the finish line, and crossed the finish line in 6:40:29, good for third and much faster than I had allowed myself to hope I could run at Vermont.
  |  With Brian Rusiecki and David Le Porho |
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P.S. Thanks to Nina Wellford and Jenn Iskiw for the great photos.
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